


The Case of Doctor Hooper and Inspector Lestrade

by Sapphire_Princess



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Doctor Hooper, F/M, Greg/Molly, Hooper/Lestrade, Mollstrade, Multi, Post-Episode: The Abominable Bride, Vague descriptions of violent crimes, Victorian Sherlock Universe, background johnlockary, hinted at OT3 but NOT involving Greg/Molly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-02 05:16:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6552517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphire_Princess/pseuds/Sapphire_Princess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspector Gregory Lestrade liked Doctor Hooper and found that the more he spent time with him, the more he wanted to do so. But he wasn’t naive - not in the way Sherlock Holmes thought he was, and he was unfailingly honest with himself. His growing attachment to Doctor Hooper shouldn’t go any further than it had already. Equality for the sexes was one thing, this was quite another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hooper and Lestrade

**Author's Note:**

> With many, many thanks to **RobinRocks** for betaing this for me! 
> 
> **Important information:** The start of this is three years after the 1895 Sherlock special and is set entirely within the Victorian universe proper; this isn’t a mind palace or a dream. The story works on the premise that the other universe is equally real and that Sherlock Holmes messes with the spacetime continuum whenever he takes drugs.
> 
> I found Mollstrade set within this period - with Hooper disgusied as a man - too good a situation to explore and write about. The story is already fully finished but posted in two parts because of all the corrections I need to make! Any remaining errors are my own. **RobinRocks** has done an awesome job.

“What do you think of all this then?” asked Inspector Lestrade, pointing to a copy of the leaflets left by Mrs Watson half an hour before. Unbelievably, it seemed, Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson now allowed her to accompany them every so often on visits to the morgue. Her talents, Doctor Hooper suspected, were to nurse the living, not attend to the dead.

“Excuse me?” Hooper said, not sure if her voice sounded too harsh. Since the Ricoletti case a few of years ago Lestrade, Holmes and Doctor Watson all seem to have changed their views and opinions on certain issues. Mostly pertaining to and involving Woman’s Rights.  
The change had been unexpected but it brought with it a sense of relief as well as a heightened fear of discovery. Anderson was an unprecedented idiot most of the time and was thankfully unobservant and as long as Molly played the role of Hooper, everything was as it should be. However, even Lestrade had noticed the change in Holmes’ behaviour. He was not cruel or cutting quite so often and his temper was rarely directed at her in the way that it had been.

Holmes had advised Lestrade that an event had occurred in which Doctor Hooper had earned his respect and they had become more friendly acquaintances at last but it still made her uneasy. 

Inspector Lestrade always made her uneasy. Though he likely thought Doctor Hooper saw him as nothing but an annoyance.

“Votes for women, equality between the sexes,” Lestrade continued in answer to her apparent question. She must not have put enough venom into her words.

“Why?”

“Why do I want to know what you think or -?”

“Yes,” Hooper snapped.

“If you’re busy I’ll go but I just thought….” He sighed and looked away. “It doesn’t matter. Good day Doctor Hooper.”

“I’m sorry,” Hooper said, just loud enough to be heard. It was gentler than she had wanted but still gruff enough to sound like the man he thought she was.  
He stopped his retreat to the door and looked over.

“It’s been a tiring day.”

“I understand, I’ll see you tomorrow, Doctor Hooper.” He smiled and gave a small bow.

“Yes, certainly. Goodnight, Inspector.”

He left and she dropped to her seat. Alone she could let out the breath she had been holding and place her head in her hands.

***  
The next morning Molly was in the best mood Hooper ever managed. Anderson worked quietly behind her and it was, at least for the living, a thankfully slow day in the morgue. 

Lestrade did come down as he had said he would but he didn’t make any more of an effort than polite conversation. Molly wondered if maybe she snapped a little too much yesterday, if he felt as though he was walking on eggshells. 

“Do you, ah, ever come up for air, so to speak?” asked the inspector as Hooper finished up the last of the paperwork needed that morning.

“How do you mean?” Tone even and polite, Hooper waited for his answer.

“Do you ever head outside for fresh air during the day?”

“Oh, yes. Occasionally. Though I find I need to be here almost constantly to make sure certain individuals do their work as expected.” She turned to glare briefly at Anderson, who was merrily doing something or other in the corner.

“Ah, yes. I understand. I just… I just wondered. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you outside the morgue,” Lestrade admitted, looking a little… embarrassed? Molly wasn't quite sure what to make of the current line of conversation. It also wasn't true. She, or rather Hooper, did attend the necessary meetings and court cases as required, though not normally at the same time as the inspector and until recently hardly ever in the company of Sherlock Holmes and his companion. 

Though the rest of the time she preferred not to hide who she was for the sake of a job she loved. She had no doubt Inspector Lestrade wouldn’t ever dare approach Molly Hooper, quiet sister of a morgue doctor, rarely seen and hardly noticed. 

“I feel as though I need to apologise for any offence I caused you yesterday, I wasn’t trying to provoke you by asking what you thought, I was honestly curious. You see these past couple of years…” His voice was suddenly quieter, no doubt to stay out of the hearing range of Anderson. “I have been rethinking a lot of the beliefs I had on certain subjects and I thought that maybe, given our mutual acquaintances, you may share the same views. Very few - if any - of my fellow inspectors and policemen would give such conversations the time of day as they feel such discussions to be beneath them and sometimes I think it would be nice to spend time in the company of like minded people.”

She wanted to smile but managed an expression of mild surprise instead. 

“Yes, I think you would find my views and opinions to be similar to Mr Holmes and the Watsons’.”

Lestrade smiled, wide and happy, and she felt her heart speed up just a little. “Would now be a good time for you to take a break?” he asked.

“Anderson,” she called.

“Yes, Doctor Hooper?”

“See to anything that arises in my absence, I have some matters to discuss with Inspector Lestrade.”

Anderson nodded and she looked around only once before following the Inspector from the Morgue.

***  
The day was bright and a little chilly and the air as clean as it ever was in the great city of London. Lestrade led her up and through the building and walked a little way farther from the hospital than she was expecting. They ended up in a tea room she hadn’t visited before. Not as Hooper or Molly, but Lestrade seemed happy and familiar enough with the place. They were seated and ordered tea and sandwiches. 

Lestrade promised to pay the bill. 

“You never seem to get to be part of the victory celebrations after a successful case is closed or a criminal prosecuted. Consider it a thank you,” he said as she was about to tell him she hadn’t any money with her. It was still with her things in the morgue and she had barely had time to snatch her coat on the way out.

They talked amiably for a while and she noticed, though she wasn’t sure why, that he wasn’t wearing his wedding ring. Though it was rare for a man to wear one at all, he always did. That he wasn’t made her wonder how long it had been since his marriage had broken down and why she hadn’t noticed before now. But then, why would she? It shouldn’t matter to her at all.

“So, given that now you know that I don’t intend to start an argument about the subject, how do you feel about votes for women and equality between the sexes?” Lestrade asked, placing his tea cup back in it’s saucer.

“I believe that women should be allowed to vote and should be seen as equals.” To say anything else would add another lie that she likely wouldn’t be able to stand.

Lestrade sat back a little and smiled, relieved. “As do I, now at least. Though I must say that even two years ago I would likely have answered very differently. Mrs Watson was the one to first make me question it and I thank her for it everyday, though I have only expressed it to her on a couple of occasions.”

“She is, I think, part of the campaign.”

“Yes, she is and she has my support. Although it must at present be quiet support as I cannot be seen to loudly voice my opinion on the force.”

“Would you defend your views if asked?” She asked before she could stop herself, using her most polite Hooper tone. She sipped her tea and wished she was brave enough to remove her moustache but it was too risky. her disguise never seemed to work without it.

“Of course but it is better to stay silent on the matter, as one must about an ever growing list of subjects.”  
She wants to ask him what he means but she doesn’t. There was something in his eyes that looked like regret and she had never, ever seen him so open. Somewhere over the past couple of years he had changed without her notice, though she had tried to pay him as little attention as possible outside of their work. It never, ever bode well to think on things that could never be and his apparently altered marital status didn’t change anything. He still saw Molly as Doctor Hooper. Male, stubborn and normally rude and stern but very good at his job.

“I understand. Though I am glad that your opinions have changed, I can’t see many others changing theirs so easily.”

“Hm, yes. It’s a shame. I was so ignorant for so many years but I cannot seem to affect the views of others now.”

She ate the rest of her sandwich before she could think of the best was to respond.

“I think,” she said, sounding quiet but firm. “that you are being too hard on yourself, Inspector. I do not think you were ever cruel before your recent change of opinion and I do not think you have ever deliberately dismissed or mistreated anyone to the level that you seem to believe. It is true that you have been further enlightened but I do not think you were so far in the dark before.”

“You are very kind.”

“I am honest. Though, I admit, harsher with my words than I need to be at times.”

“I can understand that as well.” Lestrade smiled again and sipped his tea.

Hooper smiled and the conversation continued, drifting from topic to topic until they both had to return to work.

***  
Things continued on this way; Lestrade would come to the morgue for one thing or another, though almost always for details or information related to a case he was working on and they would usually go for luncheon in the same tea room.

They had become friends and he was, Molly realised one day, perhaps the closest thing she had to one within her work. Mrs Watson and her other friends within the campaign aside and every now and again it struck her that if he knew her - if he really knew her - she wasn’t so sure he’d want to be her friend at all. It also wasn’t much of a comfort that he wouldn’t ever get to know her any better than he did now but it really didn’t do to dwell.

***  
Inspector Gregory Lestrade had always thought he was a good person, always obeyed the law unless there were reasons not to and most of those reasons lay at the door of Sherlock Holmes. There are times when - for the sake of the greater good - there were certain things he claimed no knowledge of and other secrets he kept safe.

When his wife had left him and essentially managed to divorce him, he had relented willingly for the sake of her happiness ( as he believed he had failed her). The whole business had been resolved as quietly as possible by Mycroft Holmes, who saw the matter as a way of thanking the Inspector for keeping his younger brother alive on more than one occasion. The former Mrs Lestrade was living in Spain with the man she had left him for and at the end of it all he found he couldn’t blame her.

He had hoped his love for her would be enough and she had promised it was, until the reality of the situation truly revealed itself and she left him for a man who could provide what she wanted. Children. His heart still ached but not as it had done a few years before.

Few people asked and fewer knew what had happened to her, most believed she had died and had given him the space he had needed during his mourning period when in fact he had been away in the countryside with his sister, her husband and their family. Upon his return, no one had mentioned it and he went back home most nights to a quiet and empty house. He still kept on a couple of staff for appearances but they provided him little comfort.

Doctor Watson, Sherlock Holmes and Mrs Watson were aware of the circumstances and were as close to friends as he had in the city and although he spent time with them, both relating to work and not, they were so much their own family that although he was welcome, he wasn’t and wouldn’t ever be what they were to each other. He didn’t want to be; he just wanted to find that for himself or some version of it.

He didn’t see that he would ever marry again though and had ruled it out as a possibility.

Increasingly he was including Doctor Hooper amongst his friends and he enjoyed their conversation and time spent together immensely. Hooper was still sometimes harsh and a little rude but his work wasn’t easy and his staff couldn’t keep up to his level. He was young to be in the position he was and it seemed to be that it gave him a certain attitude. Lestrade often wondered why someone’s age mattered so much when it was clear they were the best person for the job. (And if age mattered so much, how was an equally capable woman ever to stand a chance? If he himself had dismissed the idea so readily, how was he or anyone to change others’ minds?)

He liked Hooper, he was funny and witty when he let the visage he kept up at work fall away and Lestrade found that the more he spent time with him, the more he wanted to do so. But he wasn’t naive - not in the way Sherlock Holmes thought he was - and he was unfailingly honest with himself.  
His growing attachment to Doctor Hooper couldn’t go any further than it had already. The Doctor was open minded and clearly very firm on equal rights for the sexes but any mention of homosexuality would surely ruin their friendship and likely end in Lestrade being reported. It was, it seemed, an entirely different matter altogether.

So far in his career he had turned a blind eye to some of the activities he’d seen, of the couples he had unwittingly discovered during his duties and time as a policeman. He couldn’t fault people for who they were and he didn’t subscribe to the popular opinion that it was a choice. No-one would choose to be that way and go against the law so easily, therefore it must be part of who they were and shouldn’t be punished.

Quietly he recited the names of the family they - himself, Holmes and the Watsons - had found in that house and prayed that they had at least now found peace. He remembered the relief on Sherlock Holmes’ face when he promised to leave out certain facts in the official police file and the kindness of Mrs Watson when he had sat down in tears, overwhelmed and embarrassed by his emotional outburst.

He hadn’t, however, considered that it was possible for someone to appreciate people of both sexes; to the point where the affection he was starting to feel towards Doctor Hooper was increasingly worrying.

Yet he found himself unable to stop their meetings or growing friendship and only promised that he wouldn’t do or say anything inappropriate in the eyes of society or Doctor Hooper.

He would take the happiness he could find and be satisfied with it.

***

“Mr Holmes has gifted me with tickets to the music hall this afternoon and I was wondering if you would care to join me?” Lestrade asked one morning a few months into their growing friendship.

Hooper looked up from the papers and slid them inside the envelope.

“What time?”

“Just after four this afternoon. It’s not too far and shouldn’t take long by cab but I understand if you are busy.”

There was, as they both knew it, no work to be done and even if there were, Anderson and the others would be able to handle it until tomorrow.

“Do you know what’s on?” 

“Ah no, not really. I’ve never heard of it but Doctor Watson said it was enjoyable. I think they have seen it before but Mr Holmes was very happy not to sit through a repeat performance.”

Molly looked up in surprise, finding herself unable to resist doing so.

“I know. And he always says there’s no such thing as coincidence. Finding a murder to go off and investigate on the same day they had the tickets. Doctor Watson didn’t seem too unhappy, though.”

“Hm. He does enjoy their adventures. Is Mrs Watson with them?” She knew well that she was not but it wouldn’t do for Lestrade to realise that.

“Ah, no. She was called away to see one of her friends and won’t be back until the end of the week.”

“Excellent timing then, for one who wishes to avoid a play.”

“Very true.” Lestrade smiled but it looked strained and Molly knew this was all her fault. It would have been better to have refused than to drag it out but there was no part of her that wanted to say no, only one that knew she must. “Please, Doctor, if I have overstepped again I would rather you say so.” 

Molly - Hooper - nodded but didn’t say anything again for several seconds. The thought of causing him pain was becoming more unbearable by the day.

“I have no plans this afternoon but I must return home to change into something more suitable.” This was not a lie but it still felt like one. “I can either meet you at the music hall, if you give me the name or we can meet at my address at three o’clock this afternoon.”

The Inspector’s smile was tentative but hopeful, though his eyes were shining brightly. She pretended not to notice.

“We can meet at your house, I should probably change as well.”

“I will see you then.”

“Yes, good day, Doctor Hooper.”

“You too, Inspector.”

***  
There were two bedrooms in her house: Molly’s room and Doctor Hooper’s room. She kept a full stocked wardrobe in each and slept as often as she could in each bed to keep up appearances. Her two staff were very much aware of the situation and were part of the Women’s Rights movement. The house itself as well as the money to run it was left to her by her parents and her wage as a doctor covered the rest and afforded the double life she led.

She wondered, standing on the landing and looking at both rooms, what Lestrade would say if she were to present herself as Molly. Whether he’d be disappointed or relieved. 

Molly didn’t particularly want to spend her evening in a restrictive corset and much preferred the minimal strapping needed to present herself. For all hiding who she was could be restrictive, it was equally as freeing and it was with only that moment’s hesitation that she entered Doctor Hooper’s room and dressed for the evening.

***  
Inspector Lestrade was admitted to the house and sat down to wait in the front room. There were signs of both siblings in photographs on the walls and a couple of smaller pictures on the mantel of their parents and their daughter.

Doctor Hooper didn’t keep him waiting long and arrived in a well tailored suit with his hat in one hand and his coat over his arm.

“Sorry to have kept you waiting.”

Lestrade smiled and quelled the excitement warming his chest. He shouldn’t feel like this, not for someone he didn’t think could return his affections and who had already seemed reluctant to agree to join him. He felt as though he was pushing the boundaries of their friendship and wondered if maybe he should make an excuse and cancel. 

The tickets Holmes had literally forced him to take felt as though they were burning through his inner pocket.

“It’s quite alright. My sister is away with friends in Scotland at the moment so the offer of company is unexpected but welcome.”

“You are close, then?” he asked before he could stop himself. There were no pictures of them together but there was a painting that hung on the wall above the fireplace. 

“Yes, though we have had very different upbringings, we have grown closer as adults than we were as children. Though my sister is shy and doesn’t venture out much.”

Lestrade smiled kindly and thought that maybe Hooper’s reluctance was more due to not expecting the invitation rather than anything else.

“Still, it is nice, good for you to have family close by.”

Doctor Hooper nodded. “Very true. Shall we?”

“Yes, yes. Of course.” 

***

There was no way to deny the rapid beating of his heart when Doctor Hooper placed his hand at his elbow but he said nothing. It was, after all, a perfectly normal gesture between friends - which they were, professional interactions aside - but he was sure the doctor wouldn’t be feeling as he was… so aware of his touch whilst pretending not to be and unable to shrug him away without causing insult. 

They were seated and talked amiably as they usually did and after a while the tension eased and he relaxed into the play and the company of his friend.

At the interval they compared opinions and though both though it was worth staying to see the second half, by the end of it they tended more to wards Mr Holmes’ opinion than Doctor Watson’s (which was unusual but not unheard of).

“I could see you home or we could have dinner at one of the restaurants around the corner,” Lestrade offered as they left, unable to stop himself. Friends did this sort of thing all the time, he had too when he was young enough and he missed it. Company and companionship.

“Dinner sounds promising,” Hooper said and Lestrade smiled and offered his arm. 

“I’m not too familiar with any one of them but Doctor Watson has mentioned at least one restaurant around here, I’m sure, in his stories if nowhere else.”

Hooper put his hand at Lestrade’s elbow and they walked down the busy road until they found a name they recognised and were certain had no mention of murder or crime attached to it. 

It was busy but not full as it would be on a Friday night and they were seated towards the back in a booth.   
They ate in companionable silence and, with as much discretion as possible, he found himself drawn to watching Hooper. The person underneath the tough exterior he had first met and disliked was friendly and warm and wonderful company.

He felt lucky - no, honoured - that he had chosen to spend his time with Lestrade, even if it was perhaps only as an alternative to spending the night alone.

“How long is your sister away for?” he asked after coffee had been served.

“A few weeks, I think, though she is wont to stay longer on occasion.” Hooper didn’t look up from the table but his tone was not unkind.

“Ah. Well, though I would be glad to offer you more trips to the music hall, I am afraid I have no more tickets in my possession and no wish to sit through that again.”  
Hooper looked up at him and smiled in a way that lit up his face. “There are other music halls.”

“That is true. Theatres and opera houses as well, I believe, but I cannot always guarantee I - or yourself will have a free evening together for which we could plan and book tickets.”

“No, you are correct.”

“However, I would like to offer my company in your sister’s absence if we happen to be free at the same time.” There was a part of him that would very much like to dig a hole and sink down into it. He was rambling and hadn’t drank anywhere near enough wine that evening to excuse such a line of conversation. He hoped Hooper didn’t read too much into it and saw it for the honest (feelings aside) offer of companionship it was. They both, in their own way, seemed lonely.

“That would… that would be most welcome.” Hooper smiled again and Lestrade found himself smiling along with him. For just a moment, he let himself take it in before returning to his coffee.

***  
There were, Molly Hooper decided that night in bed, worse things to have done. Most of those crimes she had seen before her, laid out on slabs in the morgue. The countless victims and guilty parties to humanity’s darkness spread before her.  
In the grand scale of things this was such a small crime.

To want the company of another human being couldn’t really be so wrong. She had never believed it so and yet prison would lie at the end of this for her with almost certainty. Inspector Lestrade, too, if he wasn’t careful.

She had seen longing in his eyes for just a moment that evening. He hadn’t known she was watching him but it had caught her by surprise and stayed with her for the rest of the night.

He was a good man and in some respects one of the greatest she had ever met. Willing to learn and to understand, wise and brave and kind, so kind but yet so ignorant in other ways.

She could no more tell him she was really a woman than… than… it didn’t matter. There was no way for her to know for certain why the beat of his pulse had been so rapid when they were stood close or why he had looked at her - Hooper, HOOPER - with such… whatever it was.

This could all very likely be in her head. Another throw back to her years as a romantic dreamer believing the world could be what she wanted it to be just because the books she read said so.

She wondered if it would be better to present herself to him as Molly but that felt like even more of a lie than Doctor Hooper was already.  
And she (Hooper) had accepted his offer of companionship, of meals spent together and whatever else would come of it - if something came of it at all. 

She wanted to scream, wanted to cry and hide away from a world so intent on suppressing those who lived in it that it was almost too much.  
Instead, she pushed her fanciful imaginings away and told her self (despite the painful hope in her chest) that she was wrong and he wanted only what he had asked for. 

Then she cried in case it was true.

***  
An investigation had kept Lestrade away from the morgue for a few days and the only time he had visited had been in the presence of Jones and Gregson. Hooper had reacted to the look of sheer aggravation on Lestrade’s face and was short tempered, snappish and borderline aggressive to his fellow policemen.

“We could wire Mr Holmes,” Lestrade suggested again but the others shook their heads and claimed it best to solve one on their own for a change.

“Maybe someone is taking it upon themselves to rid London of it’s Inverts,” Gregson remarked and Hooper felt her blood boil. _Prejudiced prick_. 

“This man was married with children and there are no signs of any of the activities you are suggesting,” Hooper growled, pointing to the body of a man in his early forties. She had been there when his widow had identified him that morning and had heard his children weeping from where they were waiting for their mother.

“Why else was he there?”

Hooper let out a long breath, shook her head, then continued. “His body was found there with only a small amount of fresh blood around him. The body was planted there after rigor mortis had set in. He would have been sat in a pool of his own congealed blood otherwise.”

“Maybe he was left there as a warning? I can’t see why it warrants our investigation,” Gregson said and looked to Lestrade and Jones for comment.

“A man was killed and his body left in a public toilet. There are many places that bodies are dumped and disposed of within the city, yet he was moved deliberately. That is why we’re investigating, Inspector.” Lestrade looked exhausted as well as aggravated and Hooper gave him a small nod of agreement.

“However you choose to look at it, an innocent man was killed and we owe it to his wife and children to find his killer. You know as well as I that he isn’t the first to be found this way and likely won’t be the last.”

“We could,” said Jones, “wire Mr Holmes and Doctor Watson and ask for their advice on this matter.”  
Hooper silently thought that it was about time. That all three were asked to work on the same case was surprising enough and almost unheard of and her morgue was starting to see the build up of this person’s victims.

“Thank you, Doctor Hooper,” Lestrade said on his way out after the others had gone.

She nodded and managed a brief smile before he left.

***  
Sherlock Holmes was indeed interested and he, along with Doctor Watson, descended on her morgue later on that afternoon. Gregson and Jones were not present and one look from the detective answered her silent inquiry.

Doctor Watson stood back and gave his own assessment as Hooper went through the main points of interest on each victim.

“You were right to call me in on this one, Lestrade. This is certainly an interesting case. We will investigate and wire you as soon as we have your answers.” Holmes was already smiling and Watson shook his head in fond amusement.

“I see you and the Inspector are becoming good friends,” Holmes said to her quietly whilst Lestrade and Watson talked amiably by the door.

“Yes, we are.”

Holmes looked at her and she wondered what exactly it was he was seeing. He was not, after all, usually the most observant when it came to matters of the heart.

“Good. I see giving him those tickets was a good idea after all. I wasn’t going to but Watson insisted they go to someone who would use them. What did you think of the play?”

“I didn’t really care for it.”

“No, neither did Lestrade.” He gave a small nod in their direction. “For all Watson’s many good qualities, his taste in entertainment isn’t amongst them.”

She smiled. “I may well tell him you said that.”

“I would deny it.”

“That you spoke well of him or that his taste in theatre is poor?”

Holmes actually smiled. “Very good, Doctor Hooper, you have me there. Good day to you.” He turned and joined Watson. “Come, Watson. There is -“   
She couldn’t hear anything else he said as he left the room.

“I will never understand how he does it,” Lestrade said, coming back over to where she stood.

 

“That is because we apparently see but do not observe,” Hooper remarked and Lestrade laughed.

“Very true, Doctor. Very true. Look, when all of this is over, which I hope shouldn’t be too much longer with Mr Holmes and Doctor Watson on the case, would you like to join me for dinner?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Good, very good. I will see you soon, then.”

***

Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson returned a few hours later with Lestrade in tow.

Hooper looked up from the body on the slab in front of her and saw the colour drain from the inspector’s face. Holmes remained impassive but Watson looked away before looking again at the body.

“Where?” Holmes asked.

“Paddington Station.”

“Found or killed?”

“Found.” She didn’t look back at the body, even for her this was a mutilation so horrific that she struggled to look at it. “The wounds are careful, precise, but the loss of blood and the brushing would suggest this was done whilst the victim was still alive, at least to start with.”  
Holmes nodded. “Doctor Hooper, I think you should get some fresh air,” he said. “Now.”

She opened her mouth to protest and found Doctor Watson suddenly at her side, holding her up.

“The rest of your Morgue attendants have all had to leave at least once an hour for the past two days and yet you have stayed out your shifts. Take a break, Doctor. No one here doubts your abilities or dedication.”

“I…”

“Watson and myself will go over your notes and the most recent victim.” He turned. “Inspector Lestrade, given that you are also looking somewhat green, you should take Doctor Hooper outside and get him a coffee or something, anything. It won’t help if you are both out of action.”

Hooper met Lestrade’s eyes but Watson had steered her to the inspector’s side already.

“Your morgue will still be here when you get back, go.”

She felt Lestrade’s arm around her shoulders and let him lead her outside, oddly comforted by the fact that his arm was shaking.

He took her to a small garden, really no more than a small lawn and a couple of trees. There were benches on a patio around the outside and Lestrade left her there as he went inside to get them both something to drink. She suspected he was using his authority as a detective to do so, as it was not the done thing.

“If you are cold, I can go and get your coat,” Lestrade offered as he handed her a china cup and sat at her side.

“No, I’m not shaking from cold.” Hooper’s anger came through in her words and she turned away from the sound of it.

“You shouldn’t feel ashamed or embarrassed, Doctor.”

“It’s my job, I shouldn’t have to ‘step outside’,” she said bitterly, angry with herself. 

“Well, I know for a fact that Anderson was emptying his stomach for most of the morning and yesterday and the other attendant, looked white as a sheet when we arrived and I know he's not afraid of Mr Holmes - as some of your colleagues are.”

“That is true, though some of them are terrified of Doctor Watson and his military service. And Anderson always leaves the room whenever Mrs Watson accompanies her Husband or Holmes.”

“I would like to be here to see that.”

“It is rather amusing. He isn’t all bad, though, and I’ve worked with worse. Please don’t tell him I’ve said that, complimenting him is the last thing I want.” “I wouldn’t dare.”

“If you need to go back, you can,”

Lestrade shook his head and smiled at Hooper. “I’m enjoying the quiet and the company.”

Hooper didn’t know how to respond so she kept drinking her coffee. He didn’t try and take the comment back and though she thought she may have been imagining the way he had looked at Hopper, she didn’t want the moment to be over.

“How much longer will it take them to solve it? Do you think?”

Lestrade shook himself out of wherever his thoughts had taken him and looked at Hooper again.

“I honestly don’t know. He said he’s close to finding the people involved in this but he needs more data. Could be hours, could be days. Though I hope for all involved it’s not the latter.”

“Me too.”

“Would you still like to join me for dinner once this is all sorted?” Lestrade asked and Hooper smiled, warm and unguarded for just a moment.

“Yes, of course.” She wanted it more than she should, quite a lot more.

“Ah, there you are!” Holmes announced as he rounded the corner into the garden with Watson at his side. “We have almost everything we need and I think, after a few inquires should be able to stop them before they strike again. We will be in touch soon, Inspector. Doctor Hooper, I hope this is the last of their victims to grace the city of London and, of course, your morgue. Good day.” Then he was off again, the doctor gave them both a smile and tipped his hat then followed his friend.

“Do you need to head back?” Lestrade asked.

“In a bit. If Anderson is as ill as you say then I’ll have work to do when I get there.”

“I suspect I need to wait for Holmes’ telegram but I can stay a little longer.”

Hooper smiled, drank the last of her coffee and settled in to enjoy their short reprieve from the rest of the world.

***  
It took a further day for Holmes to pull all the threads of the case together and for Lestrade to complete the arrests.

Hooper looked exhausted but grateful when Lestrade knocked on the door of the morgue and said there would be a cab outside shortly. Hooper handed over to the night shift and followed him out. 

They took a cab to the same restaurant, sat in almost the same booth and ate in a tired and wary silence until dessert arrived and Lestrade gained the confidence to ask a question he had been thinking on for a while.

“I know it has been a while since we spoke of the Women's Rights campaign but there was something I wanted to ask you, though I am afraid it isn’t my place to ask.”

“You can ask, though I may choose not to answer,” Hooper replied.

“I was wondering what your sister thought of it all.”

“Ah, well.” Hooper looked down at his plate. “As a child, she saw the world as a place where anything was possible if you tried hard enough, she used to read a lot and her education was always encouraged and supported by our parents.” He looked at Lestrade for a moment as he spoke before reaching for his glass to take a long drink. 

“Whilst I was sent away to school, she was home-schooled in music, arts and also science and mathematics. But as she got older she discovered that the world wasn’t what she hoped and her efforts to gain further education seemed thwarted at every turn. I’m afraid it disillusioned her and although she certainly believes men and women should be equal, she has no hope of it happening within her life time.”

“I’m sorry,” Lestrade said quietly, finally able to see how sad it made Hooper, how much sorrow and regret lay in his eyes when they met his again. “More sorry that I know how to express.” There was also regret that a couple of years ago he would have been amongst those to judge and suppress her.

Hooper nodded. “Had things been different, I believe she would have joined me in the medical profession, though I also sometimes wonder if I only followed this path because she could not.”

“How do you mean?”

“Please do not mistake me, I do enjoy my work very much but I think it was my sister’s plight that first put me on this path.”

“That is both very sad and wonderful at the same time.”

Hooper smiled, closed mouthed and cheek dimpling slightly and Lestrade forced back the emotion that rose up in him at that moment. He knew what he was feeling but it wouldn’t do for it to show on his face.

“She would agree with you, I think. She is not as unhappy as I may make her sound and she has… found her own way to get by in the world.”

“I am glad to hear it.” Lestrade managed to speak without stuttering and smiled back when Hooper next met his eyes.

***  
Hooper was yawning so widely as they were leaving the restaurant that Lestrade thought it the very least he could do to help him inside a cab and see him home. The journey wasn’t too long, a half hour through the London streets but it was long enough to feel every spark that went through him when the cab rocked and they brushed against each other. He kept himself still and said nothing when Hooper’s head came to rest on his shoulder and the sound of his breathing evening out signalled he had fallen asleep.

When they pulled to a stop, he gently roused the doctor and helped him from the carriage. 

The driver took pity on him and accepted his tip gratefully, wishing him luck with his drunken friend.

“The young always seem to think they can handle their drink,” he remarked with a shake of his head and a snap of the reins. Lestrade only nodded and waved with his free hand in friendly agreement before helping Hooper to his front steps.

“I am sorry, Inspector,” Hooper said in shame at the door. “I did not mean to fall asleep.”

“It’s fine. It has been a long few days for all of us and I am sure you have had very little rest.”   
Hooper opened the door and Lestrade followed him inside.

“There will be coffee in the kitchen if you would care for some or you can be on your way,” Hooper offered, yawing again. Even in the faint light of the hallway it was easy to see how utterly exhausted he was.

“I do not wish to keep you up any longer, I should probably leave.” But Lestrade didn’t want to, it was the last thing he wanted in that moment. He knew his own heart well enough to understand he was falling for Hooper yet it didn’t feel wrong. Though, that it could never be hurt in ways that made him wish his heart had kept its promise not to love again. He didn’t feel like he was sinning or committing an act against God. He just felt warmth and affection for another person, tinged though it was with the knowledge it couldn’t be returned.

“Inspector, you yourself look as though you wouldn’t make the journey home without also falling asleep and I am sure you have had less rest than I.” Hooper looked at the floor, arms held stiffly at his sides. “I offer you the use of my bedroom if you wish to stay. I can stay in my sister’s room tonight as I know she wouldn’t mind. My sheets are clean so you needn't worry.”

“I..” Should say no. “I wouldn’t want to cause you any trouble but I admit, I am exhausted.”

Hooper let out a breath and the tension in his frame eased. “Good, I mean, you’re welcome to stay here… I will fix us something to drink, then we can both get some rest.”

Hooper headed into the kitchen and Lestrade leaned back against the wall, knocking his head as quietly as he could. What would the Doctor think of him if he knew?

They drank tea quietly, neither made a comment on their shared exhaustion or how much Hooper’s hands were shaking. Hooper lead the way upstairs, gathered what he needed from his own room then, after advising Lestrade of what time to expect breakfast and where the facilities were, he stepped inside his sisters’ room and closed the door.

Lestrade readied himself for bed and slid beneath unfamiliar covers, ignoring how disappointed he was to sleep in a bed that smelt of fresh linen than the man sleeping in the next room.  
***


	2. Molly and Greg

Molly was utterly beside herself by the time she woke after a night of exhausted sleep. She had the day off, afforded to her only because of the number of days and extra hours she had put in, and wanted never to leave the room.

Lestrade was up already, washed and dressed by the sound of it, and although she had washed, instead of dressing she had once again hid underneath the covers of her bed, wondering if maybe he would show himself out.

He was, it seemed, too much of a gentleman and Molly wondered if this would stretch to ignoring the fact that she had fallen asleep on him the night before. Even now she couldn’t understand why he had stayed.  
Eventually she dressed and readied herself as Hooper, which she was loathe to do on a day she didn't have to leave the house but it was this or explain herself and she couldn’t bear to do that either.

When she arrived downstairs for breakfast, there was tea, toast and jam waiting for her. Her staff had the day off, which meant he had arranged this himself…. and she hadn't told him about that either….

“Thank you,” she said, forcing herself into the gruff tones of Hooper, though the flush of embarrassment to her cheeks probably made her look bashful.

“Think nothing of it, not after your generosity in letting me stay here.”

Molly sat herself down and smiled at him, spreading first butter then jam on her toast.

“In truth,” Lestrade continued, “it’s a welcome change to have someone to have breakfast with.”

Molly looked at his hand again and back to his face. She wanted to ask but couldn’t find the words.

“It’s alright, you can ask. Though the whole business has made be regret ever choosing to wear a ring in the first place.”

“How long?” she managed at last.

“Three and a half years.”

“I am sorry,” she said. Though part of her wasn’t and it ached all the more.

“You don’t need to be, no-one does. It was hushed up and resolved quickly. Though I have Holmes and his brother to thank for that. She is living quite happily with her new husband in Spain, along with their two children.”

Molly looked up at him and watched the anguish and pain flicker in his eyes.

“Lestrade, I’m sorry. I had no idea.” She didn’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to piece together what had happened.

“There are very few who do. Besides yourself, the Holmes brothers and the Watsons, only my sister and her husband are aware and though I know I can trust you, I would like to keep it that way.”

“I would not, it isn’t any of my business.”

“Thank you. She was aware of the, ah, circumstances when we married. An old injury, you see, from my early days on the force, but I think after ten years it was too much for her. I can’t blame her for that.”

Molly nodded and calmed her breathing. It wouldn’t do to cry and she wasn’t sure why this was affecting her so much. All the pain she saw in her work everyday and yet what had happened to Lestrade was breaking her heart.

“It seems cruel to leave someone you love for others who do not yet exist,” she said quietly and looked up when he made a choked sound.

“No-one has ever put it quite like that before.”

“There are also plenty of orphanages who would gladly let a police Inspector and his wife adopt the children within their care.” She wished she had stopped herself from speaking the moment Lestrade coughed and dropped his gaze to the table, hands gripping the edges tightly.

Molly closed her eyes; she had, it would seem, gone too far but watching him in so much pain and not being able to help had taken its toll. She stood and walked around to place her hand on his shoulder in silent support.

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked, making Hooper’s tone as gently as possible without giving herself away.

“I…I think anything I would ask of you would forever change your view of me and I have no wish to further impose on your hospitality,” Lestrade choked out.

“You may ask. I will take no offence.” The greater crime would always lie at her door.

He looked up at her and she let out a breath. What was she doing? She asked herself over and over again.

Lestrade stood and her hand dropped from his shoulders. He opened his arms slightly but didn’t step forwards.

Molly nodded before she could stop herself and stepped inside the circle of his arms. He hesitated but wrapped his arms around her, held on carefully at first but tighter when her own slipped around his back and his heart beat thudded against her chest, as hers likely did against his. She was sure the binding would do nothing to dampen it. Though Lestrade was taller, she still stood high enough to rest her head on his shoulder. 

She held him tightly and didn’t comment when he pressed his face into the shoulder of her shirt and took deep, shuddering breaths. Molly felt tears gathering in her own eyes both for his sadness and the pain she would inevitably bring him. She was putting him in an impossible situation and didn’t want to cause him more harm. Equally she could see no way out of it, unless he chose to keep them in this strange sort of limbo.

Even equality amongst the sexes couldn’t make this right.

They stood holding onto each other for a very long time, neither willing to let go and face what would come next and when his hold did loosen, Molly felt herself shaking with barely-repressed tears.

“I am sorry, Doctor Hooper, I really am. You didn’t have to indulge me if it upset you to do so,” he said, voice so gentle and filled with so much grief that Molly found she couldn’t shut it out anymore.

“That isn’t… that isn’t…” Tears started to run down her cheeks and she knew if he saw them he would leave. “Please, please just let me explain.” Molly reached out and held onto his sleeve. He didn’t protest, just slid his other hand gently around her waist and pulled her against him once more, when she let go of his sleeve he cradled her head with his hand and soothed her as she sobbed against his shirt.

“You don’t have to explain, whatever it is. It’s alright, I understand.”

“No…it’s, it’s not what you think. You can’t…”

“Shhh. If you want to, you can tell me later, for now it’s alright. I’m not going anywhere.”

Molly held on tighter and closed her eyes, not caring now if her moustache or side burns came away, not caring if she sounded like the woman she was underneath.

***  
He was careful, gentle with her once her sobs had quietened down, and made fresh tea to settled both their nerves. 

“Will you tell me?” he asked, hand on her shoulder. Warm and solid and firm.

Molly squeezed her eyes shut and nodded.

“Alright, should we move to the front room or would you rather we stayed here?”

“This way,” she said, leading him from the kitchen into the small library. 

Lestrade nodded and took her hand. She looked up at him in shock but grasped his fingers in hers before he pulled them away. Surely… surely this was a good sign?

***  
“I could…” Lestrade said, sat next to Hooper on the settee along the wall facing the modest garden outside. “I could speak first.”

“You could,” Hooper agreed. “But I think mine is the greater crime.”

Lestrade shook his head. “I shouldn’t have imposed myself upon you in the kitchen, the fault, I think, lies with me. I let my… I let my feelings get the better of me and though on a moral level I do not believe there to be anything wrong with feeling this way for another man… I do think that society and certainly the law disagrees with me. If you disagree with me also then I will leave immediately, though I think that you must, at least a little, return my affections.”

“I do return them.”

“Then surely our crime is equal.”

“It isn’t and you have committed no crime.”

“I don’t understand. I am saying that I have feelings for you… that I am, for want of a better way of putting it, halfway in love with you and I don’t care that you too are male or that I am an upholder of the law.”

“You, Inspector, are one of the kindest and most wonderful men I have ever known.” Hooper looked down at the floor and Lestrade could tell he was crying again. “ And the fact that you would put the law second in this matter is of great comfort but you are not guilty of loving someone of the same sex.”

“Please, Hooper, at least respect my feelings for you, I may not be able to understand the world as Sherlock Holmes does but I know love when I feel it.”

“I was able to fool Sherlock Holmes in this matter, too, though I must admit Doctor Watson worked it out early on in our acquaintance. I only ask for your understanding.”

Lestrade shook his head. “But I don’t understand, really I don’t.”

Hooper stood and returned to the kitchen, his legs shook as he stood but Lestrade didn't offer help, he had the impression it would be unwelcome. He returned with a bowl, soap and a cloth and set them on the table in front of them before sitting and starting to clean his face. The whole time Lestrade sat there in silence, white noise filling his ears with a ringing that seemed to consume him.

When Hooper was finished his moustache and side burns were gone and his eyes were shining with tears.

“I am not,” he said, his voice sounding softer but still so sad, “what you think I am.” His hands shook as he removed his waistcoat and then started on his shirt.

Distantly, Lestrade had started to realise what was happening but he couldn’t form enough coherent thought to understand it. 

When Hooper had finished unbuttoning his shirt, he pushed it open and turned so that Lestrade could look.

Emotion started to wage a war in his chest and he was at once shocked, hurt, relieved and filled with a sense of sadness brought on by the sorrow on Hoopers’ face.

Lestrade reached out and almost recoiled when Hooper flinched but he didn’t reach for their chest, instead he placed his hand on their shoulder and pulled the shirt closed. He did the same with the other side and placed his hand gently on their chest. Over the shirt and binding both.

His voice cracked the first few times he tried to speak but the person at his side was so afraid and so brave at the same time that he tried again. “I still don’t understand. But it doesn’t matter what you are on the outside. I love you and I know you must have your reasons. I will listen, if you wish to explain them.”

“Why? Why are you so kind? You…” You wouldn’t have acted like this a few years ago.

He closed his eyes and saw the room in that house two years ago. The look on Sherlock Holmes’ face, the shock on Doctor Watsons’ and Mrs Watson’s as the detective finished his deductions. The private burial and the flowers they four left every year. It had taken time to come to terms with it and he had gained a new understanding of himself, his friends and the depth of human cruelty and also, at the end of it all, love. 

“Liddenwell House.”

“The case that ended in a fire from Doctor Watson’s stories? One of the unsolved ones?”

“It wasn’t unsolved, though the fire was real.” 

They had covered their tracks and set right what they could. He hadn’t slept right for a month afterward though it wasn’t his conscience keeping him awake. Those sleepless nights had brought with them new and affirmed conclusions about the world and how he saw it. 

“Lestrade?”

“Greg, you can call me Greg.” If he was going to talk about it, to bring Hooper into the shared confidence on this matter, then there was no need for them to use only Lestrade.

“Greg?”

He opened his eyes and looked over at Hooper, still shaken but no longer crying. 

“Molly, my name is Molly.”

Greg managed a weak smile. “I did always wonder what the M stood for.” 

Hooper (She) smiled and as she did, her tears broke free and ran down her face. He coaxed her gently into his arms, a motion that would have allowed her to move away if she found the attention unwelcome. But she didn’t and soon he held her close, ran one had through her hair whilst the other held on tightly.

And through shuddering breaths, he too let his tears fall.

***  
“Would you… would you give me a few minutes to change?” Molly asked.

“Yes, of course.” 

“I won’t be long, It’s just better if I don’t spend all of my time bound like this.”

He nodded. “I can’t imagine that a corset is any less restrictive, though,” he said, not unkindly and Molly laughed. A sound that seemed to surprise him and he leaned over to cup her cheek, rubbing the remnants of tears away with his thumb. “Sorry, you are beautiful when you laugh.”

She smiled and turned her face into his palm. “I’m not going to put on a corset, I have clothes for when I know I won’t be disturbed at home.”

“I should probably send for some clothes for myself, I’ll send a telegram while you get changed. If anyone asks, I’m looking after you while you recover and your staff are away. “

Molly nodded but she couldn’t silence the fear in her mind. Fear that this was all a deception. She didn’t want to suffer that again. Not from someone like Lestrade.

He put his hand on her shoulder.

“I can say something else if that will help? Are worried about Doctor Hooper being discovered alone with a police inspector? Or would it be better for me to go and then return?”

Molly brought her own hand to cover his. “I think that I might love you, Inspector Gregory Lestrade,” she said, smiling again.

He smiled back but seemed unsure of why he was doing so, of why she had said that.

“Oh… oh.” The realisation finally dawned. “I’m not trying to make excuses. I wouldn’t leave at all but as you have said, your staff are on their day off and I think brows would be raised if I turned up with Molly Hooper on my arm, or Doctor Hooper. I am not known for company.”

“No, neither am I. Though as Molly I do sometimes have my friends around for dinner.”

They stood and she walked him to the door.

“I’ll return within two hours at most, I promise, and I’ll knock three times when I return.”

Molly nodded and looked up at him. “Can I?” she asked.

“Yes.” He bent his head a little to kiss her and she pressed up and into the sensation. He chuckled softly against her mouth but his arms slid around her and held her as he pressed their lips back together with a gentle pressure, then firmer. Eyes closed and heart full.

She let him go with one final squeeze of his fingers and fell back against the closed door after he was gone: trying to let her thoughts reorder themselves. She hoped and hoped that he really would return to her because she didn’t know what she would do if he didn’t.

***

 

Dressed, bathed and with fresh clothes packed just in case, Greg headed back to Molly’s house. He schooled his excitement in the way years on the force had taught him and tried not to think of where they went from here.

The only thing he was certain of was making sure that Molly lived how she wanted and that she would allow him to be included in her life, however was best. A more naive Lestrade might have wanted her to stop hiding and marry him, leave life as a doctor behind. But her house and lifestyle were not lacking, neither had her education. She was not working for security, at least not altogether, so she must really have been doing her job because it was truly what she wanted, in the only way left open to her and he wouldn’t take it away from her.

Something struck him as he walked the few steps to her door and knocked three times, though he waited until inside with a very lovely but clearly relieved Molly locking the door behind him and leading him back into the music room before he spoke.

“Forgive me for my slowness, but you don’t have a sister do you? You are both Hoopers, Doctor and Miss.”

The look she sent him was almost Doctor Hooper when trying to explain something to Anderson and it warmed him further. “It just occurred to me, sorry. Mr Holmes is sometimes right about me, I can know something to be true before I understand it.”

Her smile was back as he sat himself down again.

“Yes. I assumed you knew.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think I ever asked your sister’s name, I didn’t mean any disrespect, I just wanted to know more about you. Though I now understand the lack of photographs with both of you in them and the painting. Very clever, Doctor. If you hadn't have told me, I don’t think I ever would have realised. Though I am pleased Mr Holmes had similar trouble.”

She sat herself close to him and tucked her legs up beneath her on the sofa. She was dressed in loose trousers and a smart but loosely-fitted shirt, there were smudges of paint on the sleeves and he could just see through the fabric to a bodice and shift.

“Do you paint?”

“Yes, though I haven't had much time to do so recently. Doctor Southern has now returned after a year in Scotland so I shouldn’t have to work so many extra hours.”

“Good. I have been worried, though I work so much myself that it didn’t seem fair to mention it. That too should improve soon.” He would have no reason to volunteer extra time if he had someone to spend his time with.

Molly shifted closer to him and he raised his arm.

“I’m sorry,” she said once she was comfortable and tucked up against his side. “I think that was probably a bit forward of me.”

“It’s fine and it’s certainly not unwelcome. It’s nice, actually, not to have to play games to hold someone’s hand, to be understood without having to be cryptic and hide what you really mean all the time. I spend enough time searching for the truth in my job, I’d rather not have to do so outside of it.”

“I had no idea.”

He bent and pressed a kiss to her hair, then ran his hands through it. Molly hummed and pressed herself closer, sending sparks through him as a blooming warmth grew in his chest 

“I’m sorry for asking but is this your hair or do you wear a wig?”

She giggled and the warmth flared. “I used to wear a wig but it got too much so I had my hair cut and the rest kept and styled into an extra hair piece, moustaches and side burns.”

“Hmm, ever been tempted by a beard?” He stroked his finger over the smooth skin of her upper lip and wondered how long it would be until he could kiss her again.

“No, can’t say that I have been. I am lucky that they are not currently the fashion.”

“That is very true. You are handsome though, as well as being beautiful, if you’ll allow me to say so.”

“Does it really not matter to you whether I am male or female?” she asked, still smiling but with the wary look in her eyes Greg was increasingly familiar with.

“No. I… I will explain, in time, the events that brought me to think and feel this way but if you had wanted me, I would have found a way to make it work. Life is too fleeting and too cruel to worry about that. I just hadn’t ever imagined the outcome of our conversation this morning leading us to this.”

“Can I ask one thing?”

He nodded and once again kissed the top of her head. Somehow it was more wonderful that this really was her hair and had been the entire time.

“The case, the one that has affected you so much, is it why Doctor and Mrs Watson moved back to Baker Street?”

“Yes. Almost immediately, I think. They kept their maid, though; she helps Mrs Hudson about the house now.”

“Have… they ever mentioned anything about it to you?” 

“No, not that I can remember. It would just make sense, that’s all. I won’t ask for more details, I know it’s upsetting you but I can understand a little.”

“Doctor Watson said that they all feel safer that way and from a practical side it works better, too. No use running two households when they were almost always found at Baker Street anyway.” He didn’t mention, though he knew he may do so in the future, that he had stayed nights at their house, either on the sofa or the camp bed they kept around just in case. It helped to stay close to people who understood and who were dealing with the same after-effects. Even Sherlock Holmes, who tried to hide it outside their home, never turned Watson or his wife away when they offered him reassurances and comfort.

Molly seemed contented and happy curled up at his side and when he felt her yawn, he shifted on the couch.

“If you’re tired, you can sleep. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I don’t want to but I’m so warm and so comfortable.” and likely emotionally exhausted as well.

“You could return to bed, I can make us something to eat for when you wake up.”

“That may well be breakfast tomorrow morning.” She shifted on his chest to look up at him, and he smiled.

“Hm, when is your next shift?”

“Two days time.”

“Well I have tomorrow off but Jones owes me at least two days, I’ll see if I can get him to cover me.”

“Won’t someone say something?”

“I told my staff your sister had returned and I was helping her look after you. I can tell anyone else who asks exactly the same thing - Doctors make the worst patients.”  
Molly stared at him. “Was that the wrong thing to do? I thought given our conversation this morning that it might be best to make people think I’m falling for your sister - if you know what I mean. Especially now I know it’s all still you.”

“I think I’m just too tired to understand how wonderful you are.”

He smiled. “You can learn my faults and failings later if you like. Though I’m sure you could also ask Sherlock Holmes to list them for you. He has one you know: a list.”

“He has lots of them. A whole box of them, I believe. Mary said she found it once.” When he met her eyes she smiled sheepishly. “I have been friends with Mary for a few years, I did attend her wedding as Molly. We just normally pretend not to be so well-acquainted and I’ve never quite been brave enough to ask why she and her husband moved back in with Mr Holmes, though I’ve always been curious. And now I’m rambling. Please, just take me to bed.” It took about three seconds for the shock of what she said to sink in. “Oh god, I didn’t mean it like that. Though I also wouldn’t mind. Unless you snore. Do you snore? Please stop me from talking.”

He was barely suppressing his laughter but Molly laughed with him, hiding her face against his chest before giving up and meeting his eyes.

“I will take you upstairs to whichever room you choose and I’ll stay with you if you want.”

“Greg, it’s a lot to ask.” 

He shook his head. It wouldn’t be easy or straightforward but she was worth it, though he wasn’t doing this purely out of a selfless need for her happiness. He needed her in his life, it felt like waking up and finding the light just by being at Doctor Molly Hooper’s side. It was as much for her as it was for him.

“It’s nothing I’m not willing to give and it can’t be that terrible, to lie beside you while you sleep. Unless you thrash in your sleep, or yell.”

“I’m reasonably sure I don’t.”

“Alright then.”

Greg had brought his bag with him and held her hand in his as she walked purposely towards her room and brought him inside. 

The room was covered in bookshelves on one side with a wardrobe, vanity and dresser along another wall. The bed was larger than expected and covered in soft yellow and green bedding. 

She got herself ready for bed and crawled underneath the covers as Greg looked the other way.

“I’m ready,” she said, though it was immediately followed by a long yawn.

Greg slipped under the covers at her side and laid a book on the bedside table. He didn’t need to explain to her why, she understood. Without pretence she came to rest along his side, head on his chest while he put his arms around her. He didn’t say anything but she felt his fingers running through her hair until she fell asleep.

***  
It was strange to wake up to someone wrapped around her and it took Molly a minute of panicked silence to understand what was happening. 

She shifted and Greg woke immediately; a jolt seemed to go through him and his eyes snapped open.

“Good morning,” Molly said.

“Hmm, good morning. You were right, you slept right through, though it can’t be much past six in the morning outside.”

“I think it’s probably the same time in here, too.”

Greg looked at her and laughed. “Yes, you’re right. I’m just… just a bit nervous, I suppose. This is all a bit new to me.”

Molly’s brow creased and she raised herself up to see his face. He had slipped down the bed in his sleep and she’d moved along with him. At least she wasn’t a violent or fretful sleeper. 

“I know it sounds strange but trust me, this is all very new. Even given my history.”

Molly nodded and bent to kiss him, falling back down onto his chest afterwards. 

“It’s new to me, too. I really don’t know what to do now.”

Greg chuckled and ran his fingers through her hair again. “Breakfast, then a walk?” he suggested.

“Hmmm. Alright.”

***  
“Whatever you choose is fine,” Greg had said at breakfast before she left to dress herself. Her staff wouldn’t return until mid-morning and she had already written them a note advising in their own code that Greg Lestrade was aware and now part of their ‘understanding’. She knew it would take them both a while to get used to.

She was now stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom, washed, dressed and ready to go out. It was still very early but they had both slept for so long that to stay in any longer felt like a waste of the day. Besides, it was not uncommon for people to take walks in the parks of London at this time in the morning.

Hair ready and clothes carefully chosen, Molly left her room and closed the door behind her.

Greg’s smile as she walked down the stairs was wide and happy, so happy that his eyes were sparkling.

“You look beautiful but are you sure?”

She smoothed the front of her dress down with her hands (now in her most comfortable, pale blue gloves). “Yes. Besides, it makes sense. If my brother is ill he wouldn’t be well enough to leave the house.”

Greg stepped forwards and took her hand. “Molly, really, if you would rather be dressed as Hooper then please do so.”

She shook her head and smiled at him, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “No, really. I think I’d like to step outside with you on my arm today.” Molly looked to the floor and felt her cheeks redden. 

“I would be honoured,” Greg said. When she looked at him, his happiness was so clear to see that she smiled back and let go of his hand to reach for her coat and hat.

London was already full with noise and people as they walked to Regents Park but the noise diminished once they were within the grounds. 

Molly was trying not to stare at Greg but she wasn’t quite succeeding. He looked very handsome in his top hat and coat and, she noticed, he had even shaved and trimmed back his mutton chops. He looked younger, more his actual age, and she hoped he had done so for himself rather than just for her.

As they walked through the park they both stopped at the same time and looked towards the edge of the lake.

“Is that…?”

“Yes.”

“Should we say hello?” Molly asked.

“If we get any closer he’s going to know it’s us anyway so we may as well. I’ve never seen him out here before, not without Doctor Watson.”

“Are you often out here on a Saturday morning?”

“Well, no, but I don’t think he is either.”

Molly giggled and covered her mouth with her hand, composing herself before they walked over.

“Good morning, Mr Holmes,” Greg said when they were only a few steps away from him.

He turned with a start - they had clearly pulled him out of his thoughts - and looked between them both.

“Lestrade, Miss Hooper.” 

“Good morning, Mr Holmes,” Molly said with a smile. They both stood while he looked over them both and likely deduced as much about them as he could; his eyebrows were drawn together and he looked confused. 

“Inspector Lestrade has been good enough to stay with me these past two nights after my brother got himself very drunk and then very ill. The inspector brought him home safely then stayed with me to help. You know my brother, he’s rarely in a good mood when well.”

“Oh, yes, quite so.” Holmes looked to Greg and then back to Molly. “You both look very well this morning.”

“Thank you. Do you often take walks in the park?” Molly asked, unable to quell her curiosity.

“Ah, no. Not really but this morning it was something of a necessity.”

“For a case?” Greg asked.

“Oh, no, no, not a case. It’s too distracting for that.” He took out his pocket watch, studied it for a minute then looked up again.

“Would you like to come back to the house with me? I’m sure you’d both be very welcome.”

Greg looked to Molly and she nodded. He’d secured the day after off with her as well so they would still have plenty of time to themselves.

“Lead the way.”

“Excellent.” Holmes’ smile was not comforting and it felt as though he had invited them back for more than just a friendly visit.

***  
“Mrs Hudson, not now, we have guests.” Holmes was quick to stand aside when they were all in the entry way to 221B.

Molly almost asked her to say whatever it was she wanted to but instead the housekeeper scowled at Holmes and turned to them with a long-suffering smile.

“It is good to see you, Inspector Lestrade.”

“Yes, and I you, Mrs Hudson. This is Miss Molly Hooper.”

“Oh, the Doctor’s sister? It’s lovely to meet you, dear.”

“Yes, you too, Mrs Hudson.”

“I’ll be back later, Mr Holmes.”

“I’m sure you will.” He smiled and stepped back to allow Molly and Greg through. Molly caught Mrs Hudson muttering about how she didn’t understand the Watsons’ being able to put up with him on the way up.

With hats, coats and gloves removed, they sat on the sofa for a bit whilst Holmes ran through to his bedroom, then into the open study, before returning to them once tea was brought in by the young woman Molly knew but hadn’t yet seen at her work. 

She gave her a small smile and a quiet ‘thank you’ before pouring tea for herself and Greg. Holmes had taken to his violin.

“I would ask him why we’re here but I don’t think he’d answer,” Greg said.

“You are quite right, Inspector.” Doctor Watson had come downstairs to stand in the doorway. “He left the house after complaining he could neither rest nor think and refuses to help on account of it not being ‘his turn.’”

“Well, it isn’t,” Homes said, glaring at his friend.

Watson sighed. “Well, they are all settled now and seeing as you've brought some friends with you on your return, they will be down shortly.” He looked between Greg and Molly on the sofa and met Molly’s gaze for a long time - likely warning her of something he needn't have feared. “I didn’t know you were acquainted with Doctor Hooper’s sister, Lestrade.”

“Ah, well, I wasn’t, we only met properly yesterday morning but seeing as Doctor Hooper got himself both very drunk and very ill the night before, I’m staying with them until he is recovered.”

Watson blinked, shook his head a little and said, “Oh.” Then, “That’s very good of you, Lestrade. If he would permit me I could check on him tomorrow to make sure his recovery is as expected.”

Molly smiled. “I am not sure that he would but I’m grateful for the offer.”

“Good. I’m glad you are both already so well-aquatinted, if that is the case.”

“It is.” Molly smiled at him and Watson’s own smile was both genuine and pleased.

Mary joined them a few minutes later with a little girl of no more than two at her side and a baby of about six months in her arms. It shouldn’t have surprised Molly - she had known Mary was expecting months ago - but somehow it did. They didn’t see each other at home, only at work or meetings or cafes. She wondered if this was a little bit like her own revelation yesterday. So many sides to one person that sometimes it was startling to see them but after a moment everything slid back into a new and improved picture.

“Hello, Molly, Inspector. I see Sherlock has brought you home to avoid a scolding.”

“At least to delay it a few hours,” the detective conceded, putting his violin away and walking over to Mary. 

He leaned close and whispered in her ear for a moment but she smiled and said - loud enough for everyone to hear - “Yes, I had realised but thank you for your delicacy. It would have been more appreciated earlier.”

“Yes, well. Yes.” He closed the doors one after the other so that they were alone and no one would interrupt them and then walked back to Mary and accepted the bundle from her arms, though he first brushed his hand over the top of the little girl’s head. She looked up at him with a wide and happy smile. 

Lestrade coughed and Molly stared as he walked across the room, gently rocking the child in his arms while Watson looked on, amused. 

“I should introduce you,” Mary said. “This is Miss Charlotte Watson, though you can call her Lottie.” She squeezed her daughter’s hand gently. “And our youngest is Mister Arthur Watson, six months old in two days’ time.” 

The little girl had her mother’s blonde wavy hair and all that could be seen was a light brown down of hair on the baby boy.

“It’s okay, you can go and say hello. These are our friends,” Mary told the little girl, who nodded and walked over to them, holding out her hand to Molly.

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you, Miss Hooper.” She was well-spoken for a two year old but given her company and household, Molly wasn’t the least bit surprised. 

“It’s been a long time since I have seen you, Miss Lottie,” Greg said. “I think you weren't much older than your brother at the time.” Lottie smiled at the inspector and immediately made to climb up onto his lap. Mary gave a nod and both Molly and Greg helped her up, where she sat happy and content, flashing a smile and her grey eyes at Molly.

Holmes brought Arthur over a few minutes later and sat on the chair at Molly’s side.

“Would you like to hold him, Miss Hooper?”

“Oh, yes, please.” 

He laid the little boy in her arms and he smiled up at her. He looked so much like Doctor Watson with his little grumpy face that she laughed a little, picturing him with a moustache.

“Yes, quite so, but he is too young for facial hair just yet,” Holmes said and Molly shook her head with a chuckle, focussing her attention on the baby instead of making a reply. He was heavy - babies were always heavier than she expected them to be - but he wasn’t fussing too much and seemed happy to rest in her lap with his little arms waving about.

“Would you both like to stay for some lunch?” Watson asked, “We haven't had anyone aside from clients here for a while and it would be nice to spend some time with friends.”

“Molly?” Greg asked, seemingly happy to admit within the company of their friends how close they were.

“Yes, it would be lovely. I don’t think Lottie would be happy if we were to leave now.” The little girl shook her head then rested it on Lestrade’s chest.

 

***  
“Anyone given permission in our presence to call her Lottie is someone she knows she can be open with and trust. Everyone else she knows to be polite with.”

“She’s beautiful. They both are.” Molly looked out the window where she was stood with Mary as the gentlemen played with the children on the other side of the room. “I’m sorry, Mary.”

“Whatever for?”

“For not visiting sooner or sending flowers or anything at all.”

Mary smiled. “I know why you can’t or couldn’t. I understand and now it seems that your inspector does, too.”

“Yes, though he seems to think he has you all to thank for that.”

“Ah. It is more that sometimes I think it just takes him a while to see things clearly. It seems to be a common trait amongst inspectors and some doctors as well.”

Molly smiled and looked at him playing across the room with Lottie. She stood by what she had told him, if he wanted children then they would make it happen and if it wasn’t possible to arrange an adoption then they would dote upon Mary’s children instead. Though it seemed as though they had three dedicated parents already. 

***  
They took a cab back to Molly’s and, though still only mid-afternoon, Molly went upstairs to change into more comfortable clothes before curling up with Greg in the music room.

Something had been running around and around her mind since they had left and at periods in between.

“Lottie has her father’s eyes, don’t you think?” she asked.

“Doctor Watson’s eyes are blue,” Greg said, confused. Molly waited quietly. “Oh. OH. So that’s why.”

“She has her mother’s features and hair so I don’t think anyone else would notice.”

“And when she grows up any similarity can and will be attributed to them all living together.” He sighed. “Well, I’m happy for them, I am, I just…. they had me sleep in the front room when there would have been a bed free.”

Molly laughed and kissed him, soothing his irritation effectively turning his thoughts in another direction altogether.

***  
“So,” Greg said, lying in bed with Molly the following morning. “What do we do tomorrow?”

“Go to work? See each other in our free time and see where this goes.”

Greg looked down at her and smiled. “I’m really not as good an actor as you, I almost hope we don’t see each other at work for a few days, just so I can prepare.”

Molly rolled over to his side again and slid her arm around his back, pressing her chest to his under the sheets.

“I don’t think it will matter too much if you look uncomfortable or embarrassed. You’ve just spent a few days with a drunk and then very-sorry-for-himself Doctor Hooper and likely fallen for his quiet and amiable sister.”

“I have only the most honourable of intentions towards Molly, as you should know by now, Doctor Hooper. Though if you move your leg any higher, I am prepared to change my mind.”

“Hmmm, good.”

***

Two months and three days since they had been back at work their meetings had been normal, appropriate and as they should be during work hours, though he stayed overnight with Molly whenever he could. 

Then, well, Greg had taken Doctor Hooper out for dinner after work while his sister was (again) out of town and they’d barely made it in his front door before Greg had pressed the good doctor up against the wall of the entry way and leaned down to capture his(her) mouth.

It was the most wonderful kind of strange to feel a moustache brush against his upper lip and the flat strapped chest against his own. There was something utterly wonderful and exciting about knowing this was still the person he loved, they just looked and felt different on the outside.

He felt hands push up into his hair, knocking his hat to the ground and strong legs wrap around his waist. He groaned, though he quickly muffled the sound in Molly’s shoulder and slid his arms up her back to support her. When he was brave enough to meet her eyes he saw her pupils dilated and a mixture of shock and arousal on her face.

“I don’t think I’d realised until now,” she said - with Hooper’s voice. “You actually, really, really don’t care do you.”  
Greg kissed her with much more care than he had just been doing, stroking the back of her hair. “I thought it was obvious,” he said with a wide smile on his face that he couldn’t repress. 

“I… I…” She laughed nervously and held on a bit tighter. “Sorry, I think I’ve ruined the mood.” She paused. “Not that you can actually tell that… oh god, what am I saying?”  
Greg laughed so hard that he had to rest her against the wall again for support, though she didn’t drop her legs and he didn’t ask her to.

“I love you, Doctor Molly Hooper. Now, lets take this upstairs hm?”

“Good idea.”

***

“Molly, are you free a week on Tuesday?” Greg asked during dinner four months later. He’d (as happened more often than not) come home with Hooper. Some of the wardrobe space in the Doctor’s room was now taken up with his clothes and a few of his books and other belongings had made their way onto the shelves and storage space as well.

“Yes, I think so.”

Greg nodded and pushed his food around his plate. “I want you to come somewhere with me. Holmes and the Watson’s will be there too.”

Molly looked up at him and narrowed her eyes a little, trying to read him. “Greg?”

He closed his eyes and let out a long breath. “Every year for the past three years we’ve visited the graves of the family who died at Liddenwell house. I’d like for you to come with us and…. and I’d like to tell you what happened there.”

“Alright.” She finished her drink and placed her knife and fork on her now empty plate. “We don’t have to stay here.”

“No, no. Hooper’s room?” he asked and Molly nodded. She held his hand tightly in her own and lead them upstairs.

“Wait here, I won’t be long.” He sat himself down and tried to get comfortable, dreading the conversation to come but knowing he had to tell her. He knew her well enough to know that she wouldn’t have asked on her own and wouldn’t have invited herself along but he couldn’t help but think that she should know; that she should be there.  
When Molly returned, she had a tray in her hands, one pot of tea and two cups, milk, sugar, the brandy decanter from the front room and two glasses. She slid it onto the bedside table and sat her self next to him on the covers. 

“I just thought it might help to be prepared,” she said. “You also looked like you needed a couple of minutes to think.”

“It’s strange. I’ve thought about it so much over the past few years but I’ve never had to tell anyone, or at least, tell anyone who doesn't already know.”

“Mary, Holmes and Watson.”

“Yes. You know, I almost didn’t attend the call. Gregson was originally meant to go but he wasn’t pleased with Mrs Watson’s inclusion so I went along instead. Thank God I did.” He looked down at his hands and was grateful they didn’t shake. “A telegram had been sent to Holmes and, after reading it, he headed straight for Scotland Yard, you know the next part but I went immediately. He had that look in his eyes, the one that said he was completely serious so I went with them.” He took a deep breath. “The house was normal enough, tucked away in the countryside towards the outer boarders of a village. Normal, beautiful, with neighbours close enough but not overlooking. It was a warm day and the sky was clear, there was nothing - no indication of what we would find inside and although I should be used to it by now, I’m not. It always feels as though there should be something in the air, you should be able to tell something was wrong.”

He heard rustling and saw Molly tuck her legs under her side of the sheets. He reached for her hand and wound their fingers together, settling them on her lap before he continued.

“I can’t… even now I can’t tell you all the details. There isn’t enough brandy in this house to give me the courage to talk about what I saw but from the moment we opened the door, we knew what we’d found within it. That we were too late. Much too late. The telegram had come from worried friends in the village who reported strange noises and activity in the house, though none had been brave enough to go inside.”

Molly squeezed his hand but stayed silent. She didn’t tell him not to continue nor did she press for more details.

“They were a family. Two families in terms of couples but they all lived in the house one of them had grown up in. He had fallen in love with and come to live with another man. They were young when they fell in love, according to Holmes, and had both decided to try to find a way to make it work. They had friends - very careful friends who knew but never gave anything away - and had built a home for themselves together. Over the years they’d adopted foundlings and ran their home to accommodate those that needed a place to stay.

“The person that found them took exception when they gave sanctuary to two maids escaping an abusive household. At first he wanted only the maids to return with him but when he found out…. when he found out, he returned with others and…. of the ten people living in the house, two survived because they weren’t there at the time. Molly, they didn’t just kill them, they made their… made their remains into a tableau of… of…” He shook his head and reached for the brandy, releasing Molly’s hand to pour himself a large glass. He took one large gulp then put the glass back down and concentrated on the burning sensation in his throat instead of his threatening tears.

“In all my years and in all the cases I know Holmes and Watson have seen… I am sure there have been worse but for me… that… that is the very worse thing I have ever seen.” He didn’t have it in him to manage further details, couldn’t help but see it all behind his eyelids in graphic colour. 

They were both silent for a long time. Molly took hold of Greg’s hand again and eventually said, “What happened to the people who did it?”

“Mycroft Holmes and his officers - whoever they are - dealt with them. Holmes had summoned them. We all… we did our best to give them a proper burial and had stones laid with their names. The two surviving household members, a young woman and her older brother, are now in Scotland, living with a family as governess and gamekeeper. They had lived together in that house for twenty years, done no harm and hurt no-one. They’d given a home and peace and sanctuary but just because… There is never _never_ a reason for the crimes committed in that house to those people.”

“But no matter the crime, they would have been exposed.”

“It was written on the walls. All over them.”

Molly didn’t ask with what. They had both seen it so many times. “And there were others who loved those of their own sex and all they wanted was a place to be safe. We couldn’t report it for so many reasons. Apparently the killers were part of higher political circles and cover stories had to be made for one and all.”

“But you burnt the house down both to protect their memory and send a warning.”

“A warning?”

“Yes. Of course, anyone connected with those men would have seen past the cover ups and know at least some of what had really happened. They’d also know the consequences. Sherlock Homes may not have been able to expose them but he could make sure anyone who thought a similar crime was ever warranted would know how it would end. And anyone on the other side knew he’d keep their secrets safe and protect their way of life.”

“I’ve never…. I’d never thought of it that way. I know we burnt it down to protect their memory and their life together but I…. I hadn’t ever…”

“He didn’t expose Lady Carmichael or any of us and that was almost four years ago. He’s certainly not a typical hero - no matter what Doctor Watson’s stories might say - but he has principles and morals and he loves very deeply. We’ve seen proof of that, at least.”

“Very true.”

“I’ll come with you, to see their graves and pay my respects. Will the others mind?”

“No, no, Molls, I think they’ll be glad you’re coming with us.

 

***  
They were glad that Molly had joined them. Mary kept smiling at her across their private train compartment on the journey there. Mrs Hudson had the children today, though Molly knew she’d have help and given that the journey was an hour and a half each way, it meant they’d be home by nightfall.  
When they had arrived in the churchyard they were met by fresh flowers piled up on the graves and a solemn nod from the vicar, who finished his blessing before heading inside.

“We’ll come later next year,” Holmes said.

None of them commented, however, and they placed their own flowers in front of the stones before stepping back and paying their respects. 

On the way back, Holmes stayed back and nodded to the others to go on ahead, accepting Molly’s hand on his arm as they followed on along just a little out of earshot.

“I owe you my thanks and an apology,” he said.

“I’m not sure I know what for.”

“For bringing you to our home, after meeting you in the park, as a means of distraction instead of an honest wish to see my friends.”

“Have all the other invitations been genuine?”

“Yes.”

“Then I don’t see a problem. You wouldn’t have invited us if you didn’t trust us.”

“Hmm. True as that is, both Mary and John have chastised me about it and I don’t wish to set a bad example for our children.”

“You won’t and you haven’t. Not from what I’ve seen.”

“Why did I underestimate you for so long?”

Molly stopped walking in shock and he turned to her. “Because it was the only way for me to stay safe. You should know all about masks and defences and hiding who you really are.”

Holmes smiled, just a little, with just enough honest feeling for her to know he meant it. “You’re not about to say something terrible and cliched about removing them for the people who are most important are you?”

“I did sort of think that it went unsaid.”

“Hmm. Very true. We should speed up, your inspector keeps turning to keep an eye on us.”

They started walking again and caught up quickly.

“Thank you,” Molly said quietly. “For what you’ve just said.”

“You’re very welcome, Doctor Hooper.”

 

***  
_Epilogue_

_Two Months Later_

“Congratulations,” Mary said as they sat with their picnic in Molly’s garden. They had first considered the Park but their wish for open and honest conversation had them rethink the venue. Her neighbours were both away and the garden was long enough not to be overheard.

“Thank you. We haven’t set a definite date yet, Greg wants to make sure he can get some time off for the honeymoon and we still haven't quite worked out what to do with my brother.”

“Hmmm, consider it a wedding gift, we’ll work something out.” Mary looked over to where Holmes and Watson were playing with their children on the grass a little way from the picnic blanket. Arthur was now a year and two months old and Lottie was almost three and they were both seemingly enjoying being outside, though Arthur seemed content to look around him from the safety of his father’s lap. Holmes was actually spinning his daughter around, both of them laughing and falling onto the ground afterwards. She ran over to her brother and almost fell onto him and Watson in her dizziness. Holmes rolled over and Molly didn’t miss the affectionate hair ruffle Watson gave him, or the contented smile sent his way afterwards.

“You have a wonderful family, Mary. You should be very proud.”

“Thank you, Molly, I even have the legal paperwork to prove it, though naturally it’s stored somewhere very safe.” She ran the fingers of her right hand over her wedding band on her left. “Lestrade has done well to deserve you. He’s improved far beyond my expectations, I believe I’ve even told him so but it doesn’t hurt to say it again.”

“Thank you, Mrs Watson, it’s nice to hear.” Greg placed the tray of tea in front of them and settled down at Molly’s side, kissing her hair as he sat down and reaching over to pour. 

“You’re welcome,” Mary replied, her smile warm and genuine.

“I could go and fetch the garden parasol if you want me to, last time they fell asleep and I didn’t hear the end of it for the rest of the week,” Greg offered.

“No, they won’t stay out too long, not again, anyway. I’m well within my rights to withdraw nursing care from men who don’t look after themselves.”

“Oh, I’m sure they’ve learnt their lesson.” Greg looked amused and Molly leaned against him, finally settling into his lap and falling into a doze under the shelter of their own large parasol. She was at the end of a long stint in the morgue and had only managed to stay awake so far because of the promise of a lovely day with friends.

“I’ll call them over for cake and tea in a little while,” Mary said quietly.

“Do you need me to fetch anything from the kitchen?” Molly heard Greg ask.

“No, no don’t worry. You look just as exhausted as Molly.” He was, the last week had been tiring for all involved and she suspected even Sherlock Holmes would sleep tonight. 

She yawned and felt Greg run his fingers through her hair and she let him for just a few minutes before sitting herself up and leaning against him properly. He placed one strong arm around her and yawned against her hair.

She laughed and he smiled at her, pulling her closer and kissing the top of her head.

“When are you next in?” he asked.

“Hmm, two days’ time.”

“Good, me too.”

She smiled and reached up to kiss him and when she settled back down again, she was quite happy to stay there for as long as the sun was out. 

_Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many, many thanks to **RobinRocks** for betaing this!!!! Seriously, Thank you.
> 
> It's been a lot of fun for me to write. I absolulty Love Molly and Greg and this setting was just perfect! I also should admit that I hadn't intended Sherlock/John/Mary when I started to write this. It just sort of happened and I had a "Uh, okay, why not?" moment and went with it.
> 
> Please let me know what you think and thank you for reading :)


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